


The Particular Magic of Lemon Cake

by mallfacee



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe technically?, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Gift Giving, Marriage, Protective Tyrion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-21 02:40:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15547791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mallfacee/pseuds/mallfacee
Summary: When Sansa Stark is married off to Tyrion Lannister, she does not gain a husband. She does gain a friend.





	The Particular Magic of Lemon Cake

**Author's Note:**

> Just a fluffy one-shot about Tyrion doing something nice for Sansa. I'm considering expanding this, but honestly, idk.

Tyrion felt his heart freeze in his chest. Gods, she was so young. He had never realized it before, just how young she looked. He had forgotten, in between her sharp tongued courtesies and mastery at fading into the background, that she was truly just a little girl. But she looked like it now, with Joffery walking her down the aisle, with an expression like he was walking her to her grave. She couldn’t be older than twelve, thirteen at most. This was cruel even for his father. Marrying Sansa Stark to Joffery would be awful, yes, but at least he wasn’t twenty years her senior. Surely his father couldn’t expect him to bed this child? 

Sansa Stark finally reached the altar, tears in her eyes. Tyrion wasn’t sure if it was from Joffery’s hard grip or the fact that she was marrying the Imp. It was then that Tyrion made his decision. Whatever war his family had gotten into, Sansa had no part in it. She was a child, and he would protect her as such. 

Her hands were shaking when the septon tied their hands together. He wanted so badly to comfort her, to let her know that it would be alright. Finally she knelt, allowing him to place the cloak of protection over her shoulders. He leaned in, kissing her gently and not making it last longer than necessary. He leaned towards her ear whispering, “Be still, my lady. You’re under my protection now. They can’t hurt you any more.” 

Sansa stared at him with wide scared eyes. She didn’t believe him, he could see it in her face. 

“Thank you, my lord,” she said quietly. Tyrion squeezed her hand. No one would hurt Sansa Stark ever again, he swore to himself, he would make sure of it. 

\---

The feast is one of the worst experiences of his life. His wife sat next to him, silently staring at her plate. Sansa looked as if she was trying to sink into the floor and disappear. He hates to see her so. She’s not all that much older than Myrcella. Tyrion tried to imagine his niece in Sansa’s position and shuddered at the thought. Myrcella had friends in Dorne, people from her home that could protect her, toys and books and days in the warm sun. Sansa had nothing at all. He had never seen a little girl so sad. 

But the sad look on her face was nothing compared to the horror that spread over her features when Joffery called for the bedding. Tyrion stood and slammed his goblet of wine on the table, the liquid sloshing onto the table. 

“You touch my bride and you’ll be fucking your own with a wooden cock,” he shouted at his nephew. He realized quickly that it was a stupid thing to say, but the look on Joffery’s face made it worth it.  

“You can’t speak to me that way! I’m the king!” Joffery screeched, and it would have almost been funny if Joffery weren’t such a monster. 

“Your grace, I’m sure your uncle meant nothing by it. He’s obviously had a lot to drink.” Tywin said, trying to diffuse the situation. His father gave him a hard look, which Tyrion could only match. 

“You’re right! I’m just jealous of your kingly manhood your grace. My own is so little, my wife won’t even know I’m there.” Tyrion said, purposely slurring his words. “Come little wife, we must retire to our chambers.” 

He took Sansa’s hand, dragging her as fast as he could out of the feast to their chambers, being careful to bar the door behind them. 

“Well that’s enough of that don’t you think. I doubt the king will bother us for the rest of the night.” Tyrion said. He looked around his new chambers. Sansa’s stuff had been moved in by the servants earlier, her things seeming out of place among his various possessions. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed a doll sitting on the armoire. Gods, he was married to a girl who still played with dolls. Flowering or no, this was no woman. 

Sansa watched him quietly for a moment before speaking. “Are we going to… consummate my lord?” 

Tyrion looked at her with pity. “Did anyone ever explain to you what that means?”

Sansa nodded gravely. “The queen did, my lord. It is my duty as a wife.” 

“Child, you will be no wife tonight. If my father wants someone to get fucked, I know where he can start,” Tyrion told her. “Put on your nightgown and get into bed.” 

“My lord?” 

“Sansa, how old are you?”

Sansa looked taken aback by the question. 

“I just had my thirteenth name day, my lord.” Tyrion felt a pang in his chest. She truly was a child. 

“Tyrion. You can call me Tyrion. Now come, little wife, it is time for sleep. You have had a long day and I’m not going to make it any longer.” 

Sansa looked up at him, somewhat confused. Tyrion walked over to the folding screen, and pulled it across, giving her a place to change. 

“I’ll give you your privacy,” he said, walking to another another part of the quarters. He could practically feel his wife’s confused stare at his back.

\---

The weeks passed quickly. Tyrion watched his little wife go to and from the godswood, talking to no one, keeping to herself. Who were Sansa’s friends, he wondered? He had asked Shae this question once only to be told “She has none.” 

He desperately wanted to change that. He could be a friend to her, he thought. An ally. He was her husband after all and that had to count for something. But after the cruelty Sansa had faced there was no doubt that it would take a long time before she would trust him, especially with his Lannister name attached. 

So, Tyrion did what he did best. He plotted. 

The first part of the plan came to him quickly. In fact it was so obvious he wondered how he hadn’t thought of it before. 

“Whatever happened to Lady Sansa’s direwolf?” He asked casually at dinner one night with his sister and father. 

“Dead.” Cersei snapped. “Had that beast put down after it attacked Joffery.”

_ Perhaps Sansa’s direwolf knew the truth about my nephew before she did.  _ Tyrion thought idly to himself.

“A shame,” He said. Cersei snapped her head over to him so quickly, he was surprised she hadn’t broken something. “It would have been good to have a direwolf on our side. Fight the Starks with their own weapon.” 

Cersei just sniffed and went back to her meal. 

The next day he had gone down to the kennel master the next day, and asked about the newest litter of puppies from the hounds. He picked out the runt of the litter, the one that the kennel master had indicated would be no use as a hunting dog. It was blind little thing, with ears too big for its head and a long thin nose. It would need much care if the pup was to survive. 

He took the pup up to his quarters. Luckily Sansa was still there, sitting in the chair by the window. 

“My lady, I’m glad I’ve caught you. I must ask your assistance with an urgent matter.” he told her.

Sansa glanced at him wearily. “Yes, My Lord?” 

“One of the Tyrell girls accosted me in the gardens, sobbing about how the kennel master was going to put down one of the pups in the hound’s new litter. She was very distraught and begged me to intervene. I couldn’t, of course, deny one of the future queen’s guests, so I saved the pup from the kennel master. Except now I’m stuck with this pup. Is there anyway you’d be willing to take care of it?”

Sansa just blinked at him. Whatever she had expected, this was clearly not it. 

“I only ask because I remember how good you were with your direwolf back in Winterfell. Please Sansa, I really don’t wish to start a diplomatic incident over a puppy.” 

Sansa walked to him, taking the puppy from his arms. It was a hunting dog. Not a proper pet like a Lady should have. But it would be a companion for his wife, he hoped. He saw tears in Sansa’s eyes, and hoped that he hadn’t overstepped by bringing up her own lost pet. 

“Of course, My Lord.” Sansa said, cradling the pup to her chest, like a mother would cradle a child. “I wouldn’t want the Tyrells to be angry. I’ll take good care of it.” 

“I’m sure you will.” Tyrion said with a smile. 

Over the next few weeks, Sansa was rarely seen without the pup. She had named the dog Lemon Cake, and took him everywhere with her. In their quarters at night, Sansa spent her time brushing the dog and teaching it new tricks. She had trained the dog to sit quietly, roll over when asked, and stand on his hind legs. The change in Sansa’s demeanor was palpable. She was utterly devoted to her pup, and the animal seemed to extend the same devotion to his owner. 

“You’ve done an amazing job with that dog,” Tyrion remarked one night in their chambers. They had fallen into a regular, if uneasy, routine at night. Tyrion would relax in his chair by the fire with a book, while Sansa sat on the rug below brushing through Lenon Cake’s fur. 

Sansa blinked up at him in surprise. Talking had never played a role in their nightly routine. 

Tyrion continued: “I wouldn’t be surprised if you taught the pup to curtesy and recite poetry. I’d imagine we could forget all about Joffrey; Lemon Cake could be the new king when you’re done with him.” 

This has caught Sansa off guard, and she let out a surprised laugh. She quickly covered her mouth with her hand and looked down, but Tyrion could still see the remains of a smile on her face. 

“Thank you, my lord,” Sansa said, she looked down at her lap, running a hand over Lemon Cake’s fur. Tyrion could detect the hint of a blush on her cheeks through the firelight.

“I had hoped that the pup would bring you great comfort in our marriage.” Tyrion said softly. 

“I… my lord?” 

“I only mean… It pleases me to see you happy,” he told her. “I thought, maybe having a companion would make this whole situation easier on you, Sansa.” 

Sansa pulled the dog into her lap, hugging him close to her chest. It was a show of the dog’s devotion to her that he did not squirm from her grip.

“Lemon Cake has brought me great comfort,” Sansa said quietly. “I thank the gods everyday for him.” 

Tyrion smiled at her. “I think it is he that should thank the gods for you, my little wife. Your kindness and gentleness are unmatched.” 

Sansa looked up at him with teary eyes. 

“Thank you… Tyrion.” she said quietly.

It was a start. 


End file.
